


brumation

by Khiroptera



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Cold-Blooded Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), hence the anal sex, just a lil bit, wow that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khiroptera/pseuds/Khiroptera
Summary: Crowley's a demon, but he has snakey habits, such as being cold-blooded. It isn't usually a problem except in winter, and this is his first winter together with Aziraphale in their cottage. Aziraphale, being an angel, radiates divine heat, and Crowley's just so cold... maybe he can just snuggle up to him for a little while...(you all know they end up screwing)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 534





	brumation

**Author's Note:**

> wow, i wrote fic for good omens, and _this_ is my first one? lol
> 
> it was written for a crack challenge in a server i'm in, because i was actually kind of inspired! but i don't write or read crack so of course this turned into 2.1k of actual tender smut fic, unbeta'd and written in like 5 hours. oops? hope you like anyway 💖

Hell isn’t hot.

Sure, Satan might come up top all red and angry, brimstone beneath his feet and smoke clouds a wreath atop his crown of horns, but that’s just for show. There’s no fire or brimstone down in Hell. No cold either – hell doesn’t freeze over because there’s nothing to freeze. In fact, the only sort of climate in Hell is that it makes all who enter feel really, really clammy. It’s damp, it’s cramped, and you’re forced to brush up against other demons, and honestly the whole experience is far worse than if it were simply too cold or too hot.

Anyway. Point is, there’s no actual climate or temperature in Hell. That’s all on Earth, and other planets, probably.

The other point is, Crowley’s a demon, but more specifically a snake demon. Every demon’s got an animal aspect, for some reason, and Crowley’s is a cold-blooded reptile. During cold winter months, snakes on Earth enter _brumation_ (not hibernation, he looked it up!) and sleep for long periods of time, waking occasionally to forage for food. Crowley doesn’t have to do all that – demon, after all – but he does unfortunately suffer from lethargy and feels himself freeze very easily.

Thing is, when snakes brumate or whatever, they like to find a warm place, like a den, or a barn, or a flat in Mayfair with indoor heating. Sometimes they share dens, to share body heat.

Crowley has found there’s nothing quite so warm as the body heat of an angel. Or at least, one angel.

Heaven doesn’t have temperature either– it’s eerily blank up there. But one thing all angels share in common is they run a little warm, relative to demons. The whole “full of holy light” kind of thing, he supposes. Crowley has always felt a sort of _especially_ pleasant heat emanating from Aziraphale, and recently their relationship has progressed to the point where he’s gotten very close to that heat, indeed.

So on Earth, here in their shared cottage, their first winter _together_ has just begun. And Aziraphale, awash with divine power that keeps his body temperature consistent no matter the weather – Aziraphale doesn’t like to turn on the A/C. Because he doesn’t need it, and also because he might not even realize it’s an option as opposed to a fireplace.

And Crowley’s just so tired and cold, and for some reason, his first thought isn’t to just turn on the A/C and be done with it, but instead to snuggle up close to Aziraphale. Share body heat in their den, if you will.

He finds Aziraphale in the living area, on the sofa with a book and a blanket, angel mug full of hot cocoa on the side table beside him. He doesn’t really need the blanket, Crowley knows. He just likes how it feels to be snuggled up all cozy.

Crowley slides in next to him with ease, pulling the blanket around himself and pressing his face into it. It’s already so warm from Aziraphale’s body; Crowley feels himself melt just a little.

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale says, and Crowley looks up to find him still reading, still engrossed in his book. _But he loves me enough to say hello._

“Hey,” Crowley responds, the word a little heavy in his mouth as he leans toward the angel. He’s so hot, and Crowley’s so cold…

Next thing he knows, he’s pressed against Aziraphale’s side, nuzzling his face into Aziraphale’s neck, shivering from both the cold and from the simple joy of touching his husband. Aziraphale gasps.

“Crowley, you’re freezing!”

“Mhm. ‘S winter, angel.”

Aziraphale pulls the blanket higher, tries to wrap it around Crowley, but Crowley refuses to let him tuck it between them. He’d quite like _less_ barriers, in fact, and he pushes his hands just under the hem of Aziraphale’s sweater. _Oh, the heat of him…_

Somehow Aziraphale manages to remove his wholly unnecessary reading glasses and mark his spot in his book, and set both down on the end table, while Crowley continues to press closer and closer. Then he wraps his arms around Crowley, adjusts them so they’re spread out on the couch— Crowley on top, blanket overtop them both, legs entangled, and it’s physically impossible to keep from moaning into Aziraphale’s neck at being surrounded by such perfect warmth.

“This is unexpected,” Aziraphale murmurs into Crowley’s hair. “What brought all this on?”

“You know. ‘M a snake.” Crowley continues to nuzzle into Aziraphale’s neck, hiking the sweater up higher as he runs his hands over the angel’s round stomach. “Well, not _really_ , but in some ways I am. Go looking for warmth ‘cause I can’t make any myself. Used to pop down to Hell for a bit to reset myself, back in the early days, but…”

“That’s not an option anymore,” Aziraphale finishes, kissing Crowley’s temple. Crowley can feel his hands rubbing his back, trying to create friction, and oh he just _loves_ him. “Did you ever do anything like this before?”

“No,” Crowley says. “Don’t like getting this close to anyone else. And no one’s as warm as you, anyway.” Aziraphale’s sweater is pushed up to his collar at this point, exposing his midsection to Crowley’s chilled hands. Crowley thanks somebody that Aziraphale wears less layers since they moved in together.

Aziraphale brings his hands down to the hem of Crowley’s shirt and pushes it up, spreads his fingers and palms across Crowley’s back. Crowley moans again, his hips shifting and pushing against Aziraphale’s, and the angel’s breath hitches.

Crowley feels a bit slow, like every movement is made through molasses, but he’s warming up quickly. And he’s _very_ interested, if Aziraphale couldn’t already tell by the stirring in his trousers. Hell, Aziraphale feels pretty interested, himself.

“You know,” Aziraphale starts, and Crowley looks up at him. He’s biting his lip, and his cheeks are red. “I’ve read somewhere that it helps if we both remove our clothes. To better share our heat, of course.”

_Hmmm_ , Crowley thinks, amused. _How coy_.

“Worth a try,” Crowley says instead, because he likes to play along.

Aziraphale hugs him a little tighter for a moment, then pulls Crowley’s shirt past his head before pulling at his own sweater. His arms only leave Crowley for a moment, really, but Crowley whines at the loss until they’re brought back around him, pulling him close. Aziraphale’s chest and arms are wonderfully bare, the bright heat of him seeping into the very core of Crowley, and he feels his limbs go loose and languid.

“Here, let me just—” Aziraphale reaches down to unbutton both their trousers, and Crowley makes it difficult for him by pressing close and rutting against his hips all the while. He kisses and mouths at Aziraphale’s collarbones, drags his teeth and tongue against him, focused on nothing other than the feel of the angel underneath him.

“Mmmm, _Crowley_ , please,” Aziraphale moans, forgetting himself, and Crowley revels in it.

“Am I distracting you, angel?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Aziraphale says, panting. Crowley is panting too, and why did he distract in the first place, again? _Why aren’t we naked yet?_

Aziraphale solves that conundrum with a snap of his fingers, and all their remaining clothing disappears to wherever, Crowley doesn’t care – because now they’re both nude and Aziraphale is very _very_ warm. Crowley’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s hips, feels Aziraphale’s breath hot and heavy against Crowley’s hair. Then, Crowley realizes.

_I haven’t even kissed him yet. Terrible husband, me, coming in here to steal all his warmth without so much as a peck in thanks._

He pulls himself up to look at Aziraphale, who slowly opens his eyes to gaze back. Those eyes, all sorts of colors under all sorts of lighting; in the dim lamplight of their cottage living room, those eyes are silver-grey, and they’re beautiful just like the rest of him.

“Hey,” Crowley whispers. “Love you.”

Aziraphale smiles, shining and bright, but terribly tender. “I love you too.”

Crowley comfortably slots their lips together, tugs at Aziraphale’s very gently with his teeth the way he knows the angel likes. Aziraphale hums in appreciation, then licks at the seam of Crowley’s lips, and Crowley lets him in.

They kiss for a long while, slow and deliberate. He cups Aziraphale’s face in his hands, brushes his thumb against Aziraphale’s cheek, and Aziraphale winds his own hands into Crowley’s hair, pulling gently. Every long drag of their tongues sends something delicious shivering down Crowley’s spine, elicits a deep moan. At some point they started grinding again, their cocks sliding against each other with perfect friction – and Crowley’s not so cold anymore, but he wants desperately to be _closer_ , wants to feel _hot_.

He breaks away from their kiss, drags his nails down Aziraphale’s sides before wrapping a hand around them both, just to feel. Aziraphale moans long and loud.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, but he’s unsure how to continue. He still has trouble asking for what he wants; lucky him, his husband knows him well.

“I want you, Crowley,” he says. “I’m ready for you, just, _please_.” Aziraphale lifts his legs, his soft thighs wrap around Crowley’s midsection, and Crowley chokes down a whimper at the suddenly slick, hot entrance his cock is now insistently pressing against.

“Go on, darling,” Aziraphale whispers, his lips quirked in a little smile. “Get warm.”

Crowley swallows, nestles his face into that lovely spot where Aziraphale’s neck meets his shoulder, and presses forward into that tight heat.

And _ohhhhh_ , the word ‘heat’ doesn’t even cover it. Aziraphale is always hot and soft and perfect everywhere, but it’s their first winter and Crowley is so much more _sensitive_. Where they connect feels red-hot, burning even, and it’s _so good_.

Crowley pushes in slowly, until he’s settled as deep as he can, then clings to Aziraphale, panting into his neck. Aziraphale seems to moan just a little with each breath of his own, but he hugs Crowley close, kissing at his shoulder.

“There you are,” he says. “Mm, doesn’t that feel nice?”

Crowley nods. “Uh-huh.”

“Is this warming you up, dear?” Crowley can feel Aziraphale’s smile against his skin.

“ _So much_.”

“Good.” Aziraphale’s hands wander, stroking all along Crowley’s back, and Crowley just can’t keep still any long.

He pulls out just a little, then finds even that meager distance unbearable and pushes back in. Aziraphale moans on a sigh, while Crowley’s is loud.

“Oh yes, darling, more.”

Aziraphale wants more, so Crowley does it again, harder this time. His angel cries out, says _more, more_ , so Crowley goes again, and again and again. They kiss, moan into each other’s mouths and suck on tongues and lips, until they have to breathe (the same way they _have_ to do anything human, because they just _want_ to), and Crowley moves his kisses to Aziraphale’s shoulder instead.

When Aziraphale grabs at Crowley’s hair, tugs on it just enough, Crowley sinks his teeth into Aziraphale’s flesh (never ever enough to truly hurt), groans at how Aziraphale tugs harder at his hair and practically sings _yes yes yes just like that_. He feels so hot, deep in the core of himself, feels like the only parts of him that are real are his hands, his mouth, his hips, his cock, everywhere that touches the blinding, divine heat of _Aziraphale_ , _Aziraphale_ , _Aziraphale_.

Aziraphale starts to tremble, and Crowley knows he’s right at the edge. He returns his hand to Aziraphale’s cock, tugs fast and loose the way his angel likes it, drives into him ever faster. Aziraphale is _greedy_ sometimes and it’s one of the best things about him.

“Oh, fuck, Crowley, I’m—” He cuts himself off with a cry that devolves into a long, low moan, as though he’s experiencing something very delicious, and Crowley’s hand is flooded with wetness. Crowley himself is on the verge of coming— right as he feels it, he unlatches his teeth from Aziraphale’s shoulder and kisses him instead, moaning into Aziraphale’s mouth as he releases himself inside the angel.

Crowley continues kissing Aziraphale, continues stroking his softening cock until Aziraphale all but bats his hand away. Crowley uses that hand instead to snap their mess away, and then snuggle close to Aziraphale with a contented sigh. Aziraphale reaches down with one arm to grab the blanket, which had evidently slid off them from their activities, and spread it over them both.

They stay like that for a while, cuddled naked on the sofa, in soft, companionable silence. Until Aziraphale speaks.

“So, was the sex part of the snake thing? Do snakes mate during the winter?”

Crowley groans. “No, the sex was part of the ‘we’re married and I love you’ thing.”

Aziraphale grins, and pats Crowley’s head. “Well. Good. Do come to me again whenever you need warmth. I enjoy snuggling with you under a blanket just as much as making love, I’ll have you know.”

Crowley smiles. “About that. You know we have air conditioning in this house, right?”


End file.
